The Quiet Face Of Night

The Quiet Face Of Night

She closes her eyes, and the sky learns how to breathe.

Silver settles gently across her resting skin.

Time slows its step, listening for what remains unspoken.

The world lowers its voice, as if prayer has weight.

Her face holds oceans that never learned to shout.

Cratered memories soften beneath a patient glow.

Nothing here demands, nothing reaches or pulls.

Everything waits, held in careful balance.

There is a kindness shaped by distance and calm.

A knowing born from watching centuries pass.

She has seen love rise, and leave its imprint.

Still, her expression keeps its grace.

Light moves across her features without urgency.

Shadows behave, respecting where they fall.

Even sorrow feels tempered by restraint.

As though pain, too, has learned manners.

She does not speak, yet meaning gathers.

Silence becomes fuller than any reply.

Those who look long enough feel steadied.

Something within them settles into place.

When morning arrives, she will fade without complaint.

Leaving behind a softer version of the dark.

What she offers is never taken away.

Only carried, quietly, into the next day.